All The Days That Never Came
by EricaOswin
Summary: In the end, it was all just a story; all the times they had and all the times they didn't. But Amy Pond never accepted that.


Amelia Pond remember everything, but not really. She has colorful recollections of events and days that have already taken place, but have no place in history. She knows the names and faces of dozens of people and creatures that she has never met or seen. She has emotions-strong, overwhelming emotions-for places that aren't real and people that never existed.

Amy Pond remembers everything, in a non-existent way that cannot be explained.

x

The night she waited was the night it all started.

It should have ended that night too, because _nothing_ happened, but that's not the way the story goes.

_"Give me five minutes-five minutes and I'll be right back."_

_"People always say that."_

_"Am I people? Do I look like people? Trust me. I'm the Doctor."_

Amy smiled that night, because she trusted him. She believed he was coming back.

And he did, but not in the way he was supposed to.

x

Amy meets her first psychiatrist when she is 12 years old. Amelia meets hers when she 10. There is only one Amelia Pond, but she has the memory of someone who has lived several lives.

x

Amelia is the Amelia that lives with her mum and dad, in a large old house in Leadworth. Amy is the Amelia that lives in the same old house with her Aunt Carol. In that reality, her mum and dad never were; gone, from the moment she was born. In a way, Amy Pond literally came from nowhere.

Amy doesn't like that reality.

Her Aunt Carol forces her to see a psychiatrist because she can't remember all the things Amy does, she has no recollection of all trips and adventures Amy remembers so sharply. Amy talks about people who were never there and describes places and planets and machines that could possibly exist.

She was always expected to grow out of this, like an ordinary kid would. But Amy Pond's no ordinary kid-she grew up with a time crack in her wall after all.

Her parents forced her to see a psychiatrist because some days Amelia wakes up and doesn't remember who they are. She comes downstairs asking an aunt she's never met what's for breakfast. She'll walk the four miles home from school because when her father picks her up, she doesn't recognize him, and her Aunt Carol always taught her never get in the car with strangers. During dinner Amelia will tell her mom about her day in a school that she's not enrolled in, telling the tales of her and her friends, ones that never existed and probably never will.

Amelia Pond is just one girl, with two distinct memories.

x

As she gets older, the memories become sharper. But for every sharp image, every startlingly clear memory, there's an equally blurry explanation behind it.

x

She remembers a man, a man with a bowtie. She remembers a boy. He's not all that noticeable, except for his nose. There's a woman too, with wild curls and a devious smile. The thing is, these people are in both her memories. She knows them too, all too well to be only a dream or a fantasy. They have names and histories. They have personalities and lives of their own.

She knows all these things about them. Or she did, at one point, if she ever did.

In one life she remembers their faces so clearly, every detail about them, the way they walk, the words they use to talk, the scents they leave behind when they drift past her. But she doesn't remember their names or how they all met. In the other life she knows their names-Rory, River and the Doctor. She knows where they grew up and remembers all their adventures together, all the days that ticked by and all the lasting memories. But she doesn't know the simple things, like what they look like or why they are so, so important to her.

If she tries to pull the two sets of memories together, they disappear altogether, hiding at the fringes of her memory, until she forgets she tried to remember.

x

Whenever she's in the Tardis, she has no idea how she got there. She remembers where she lives and who her boyfriend is. She remembers that her best friend is the Doctor and that River Song is his wife. She doesn't remember giving birth to River but she knows that's her daughter. She remembers Rory impregnating her, but she doesn't remember deciding to keep the baby.

She knows that she willing stepped into the Tardis and into the lives of these three people, she just can't remember what her life was like before.

x

Rory, River and the Doctor. They never talk about childhoods. It's just how they are and it wouldn't be all that strange except sometimes it seems like they all go to great lengths to avoid the topic of Amelia's.

She sees the way they look at her out the corner of their eyes, the expressions they exchange when she brings up memories involving her aunt when hours ago, she told them a story about her parents. She observes it all, all the things that let her know they're not telling her something.

She never confronts them about it. Or maybe she already did. Amelia Pond has a lot of memories, and keeping track of them was something she gave up on a long time ago.

x

Amelia Pond is one girl with many, many lives. In one life she grew up with her mum and dad in Leadworth. In another she lived with her Aunt Carol in the very same house and went to a different school and had different friends. In one reality she grew up to be a kiss-o-gram, where she met Rory at a party and became his girlfriend not long after. In a different reality she travels on the Tardis. Sometimes Rory is there, sometimes he never was. River comes and goes as she pleases, always giving Amy a polite greeting, fixed with a curious stare. The one constant though, is always the Doctor.

But in every life and reality Amelia Pond has ever lived, they all have something in common; her time in a mental hospital.

The year she was there and names of the hospital vary with each recollection, but she knows she was there, at some point, or place, in time.

Doctors from one memory try to coax her into taking pills by reminding her that the only way she'll see her parents on the outside is if she follows the rules and listens to the doctors and nurses. A nurse from another memory tells her to dress nicely and comb her hair, because her aunt is coming to take her to their home in Leadworth.

She remembers the days she sat curled up, in that bare, blue room, all alone, so scared. She remembers the nice nurses with their empty smiles trying to convince her to talk to the other children, to interact with someone real for once. She remembers the array of medications they put her on and took her off of. All the unpronounceable names and nearly indistinguishable numbers carved in the colorful pills.

She remember each of her doctors, four total. Which end of the spectrum they belonged to, she didn't really care. After a while, they all bled into each other, meshing perfectly until they became one figment, one voice. It didn't matter what their names were or why they said they cared about her; they all said the same thing.

_"It's not real Amelia. This is life, this is reality. There is no other one."_

Amy never accepted that.

Amy knew the truth, she had lived the truth.

x

Amelia remembers everything, but nothing at all. She remembers laughing, and crying and falling in love and attending funerals. She remembers staying in Leadworth and becoming a kiss-o-gram, she remembers running off with the Doctor and Rory. She remembers being taken by vampires and staring into the eyes of a Weeping Angel. She remembers delivering a eulogy at her mother's funeral and she remembers not remembering her mother at all. She remembers the Doctor and River and Rory, and she also remembers not remembering who they were. She remembers the battle at Demons Run and time the Daleks tried to take over London. She often remembers saving the day, only to forget everything that happened in those twenty-four hours.

At the end of her life, she wonders why it never bothered her; why it never annoyed her that her life didn't make any sense. When Amy is dying, when she knows definitely that this is the end, her mind flashes, but not with memories of her entire life.

She thinks back to the night she waited-or didn't wait-for the Doctor. It isn't the same as she remembers, but then again, nothing ever is.

They weren't outside like she originally thought. There was no blue box and no fish fingers and custard. Instead he only talks to her, in her sleep.

_"When you wake up, you'll have a mum and dad. You won't even remember me. Well, you'll remember me a little. I'll be a story in your head. That's okay. We're all stories in the end. Just make it a good one, eh? Cause it was. It was the best. A daft old man who stole a magic box and ran away. Did I ever tell you I stole it? Well I borrowed it-I was always gonna take it back. Oh that box. Amy you'll dream about that box. It'll never leave you. Big and little at the same time. Brand new and ancient, and the bluest blue ever. And the times we had, eh? Or would've had. Never had. In your dreams they'll still be there. The Doctor, and Amy Pond...and the days that never came."_

The Doctor himself told her that it was all a story. That _this_ was all a story. All the times, all the days...they never came. But...they did. He's not real and he never was.

But he's sitting right beside her now, trying to shake some life into her. It's not working. He murmurs encouraging things, about how he's going to save the day, save her, like always but if he's not real, then how can his promises be?

She feels his warm hands on her face, his cool tears on her skin. He's crying. The Doctor is crying. Can things cry if they can't feel real pain?

Amelia puts that though out of her head. She doesn't know why she thought it in the first place, she doesn't want that to be her last thought. The Doctor was real. Is real. All the times they had and all the times they didn't have were real, even if she can't remember them all.

She doesn't know why the Doctor is crying.

She doesn't know why she's crying either. Everything she loves, everything that makes her happy, everything worth remembering-the Doctor, the Tardis, Rory, River Song, the different galaxies they traveled to, the alien races they saved and the ones they destroyed, every star they've ever sailed past-she's been told all her life that they were just stories in her head.

Amy Pond knows why she's crying.

It's because she never accepted that.


End file.
